Page 37 of Whispers on the Water

“Like?”

I hesitate, the weight of my question pressing on me, but I need to know. “Were you serious? Do you think you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know I do. There’s not a doubt in my mind, Sam.”

I reach out, cradling his face in my hands, feeling an indescribable closeness to him. He leans in, our noses brushing. “You okay?”

With a nervous nod, I wrap my arms around him. Never in my life has anyone made me feel so seen. Even my sister Penny didn’t understand my reasons for staying with Kevin as long as I did. But Greg didn’t ask why. He didn’t demand I explain my cowardice or ask for more details about that night.

He only told me it was okay. Promised it. Made me believe it.

And I know I’m ready. Maybe not to say those terrifying words back to him, but to connect to him like I haven’t before.

We’ve had sex previously, sure, but it was a purely physical connection. Now, there’s more. So much more. I pull him to me with a single tug and capture his mouth with mine. My fingers tangle in his hair, his groan sending waves of warmth through me. Despite our past intimacy, this moment feels profoundly different. After weeks of holding back, his declaration of love has changed everything for me. I’m ready to surrender to him completely.

Our kisses deepen, fueled by a shared desire that seems to have been simmering just beneath the surface. As he slips his tongue between my lips, I open up for him in more ways than one. A low moan escapes me, a sound so primal it seems to resonate from the very core of my being.

It’s like a starter’s pistol has gone off, and Greg growls as he paws at my body, pushing his hands up under my shirt. Rough skin explores my stomach. Heat is pooling in my stomach quickly. How in the hell did I resist this man for three weeks?

Greg slept in his briefs, and his bare chest looks glorious in the dim morning light. My fingers are touching everywhere: down the ridges of his sculpted abdomen, up his firm biceps. But I can’t get enough. Touching isn’t enough.

Like he’s reading my mind, his head dips as his hands push my shirt up. Licks and nibbles trail all over my stomach. A greedy whimper escapes my throat, and my legs fall to the side. His hand quickly slides up the inside of my thigh. When he stops at my hip, his fingers dig into my skin, so hard and powerful that I know it will leave a bruise. But for some reason, the idea he’s leaving a mark on me only makes my heart rate pick up more.

A bruise made in love is so different from anger. Almost like a declaration to the world. To me. ‘You’re mine.’ And any sore spot will be my own beautiful reminder.

“Greg…” I say, surprised at the quiver in my voice.

“Is this okay, Sam?”

A swallow and nod. “Please.” It’s begging, but I don’t care. My desperation meter is full. Overflowing even. If Greg doesn’t touch me where I need it most in the next half second, I’ll be forced to take things into my own hands. Literally.

The thin fabric of my skirt is shoved up until his fingers are tracing circles around my most sensitive area. Within seconds, I’m tilting my pelvis up, trying to get more of the touch I so need.

“Where do you need me, Sam?” he asks. His voice is husky, straining against the words.

“Everywhere. Here, now,” I say, not sure if I’m making any sense. Without any warning, he slips my panties down. I grip overhead onto the pillow, knowing what’s coming, or rather what will be coming as soon as he touches me. The anticipation of it hits me, and my body starts to tremble. But instead of feeling his warm, wet tongue on me, a breeze of cool air is blown onto my pussy.

It’s torture but in the best way. I thrust my hips up, trying to feel his touch.

Greg doesn’t disappoint. His mouth plunges onto me, tongue diving inside me as his nose moves up and down on my clit. A yelp of pleasure, of pure shock at his divine touch, bursts from my mouth. I’ve never made that sound before, and for a moment, I’m almost confused if it’s really my voice.

My hands slap down onto his head, tangling my fingers into his dark golden locks. I tighten as he licks and sucks, whining, begging for more. His mouth is magic. I’m convinced. Whether he sold his soul to the devil or was just born some sort of mythical oral pleasure wizard, I don’t know. All I do know is I need more.

I buck against him as he clamps down on my clit. This man needs to be inside me now.

“Please,” I say again in a whisper. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, he stops and sits up. I don’t wait for his questions or any further teasing. My thumbs hook into his briefs, ripping them down.

His cock is rigid and beautiful, glistening with precum. It is like a trophy just for me, from the man that loves me. As I stare at it, almost overcome with desire, it twitches. I lock eyes with him, seeking the permission I need. ‘Can I?’ my eyes ask.

‘Yes please,’ the lazy, sultry smile says. Grabbing on, I slide my hand up and down the shaft, paying special attention to the slickness at the tip.

His growl heightens my arousal in an instant if that’s even possible. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. But he bends forward, and our lips collide. The kiss turns animalistic immediately. Our movements mash together, finding a rhythm that keeps time with my hand pumping furiously as his manhood grows even thicker.

But he suddenly grabs my wrist, panting as he stops my motion. “Not like this,” he says, shaking with restraint. I stop, but my face is worked into a curious expression. The signals he was giving were more than clear. He wants this as much as I do.

Without explaining, he lowers my hands down in a smooth motion and then pushes me onto my back. “I want you to feel it, Sam.”

With his eyes locked with mine, he hovers over me, guiding his cock into me with his hand. My eyes close, but I feel his fingers touch my chin. “Look at me,” he says. When I do, I almost want to run away. There’s an intensity in his gaze that’s so strong that it burns me from the inside out.

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